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Sweater Season

As Storm Ellen buffets and blasts the willow tree in my garden and shakes the bejeepers out of the last raspberries that cling to their free-swinging canes, I sit inside my home listening to its ferocious gusts. And my mind turns to knitting.

I know, dear reader, I am more known for the hook than the needle, but as Ireland’s weather patterns shift inexorably from warm rain to cold rain, I find my fingers itching for the simplicity of a knitted jumper once more.

Every year I make one. Just one.
And it simultaneously comforts me to know I’m taking care of Winter-Aoibhe’s cold bones and soothing Autumn-Aoibhe’s frantic need to prepare all the things.

Do you think they’ll miss a few dozen?


I get decidely medieval during weather like this. Suddenly every single fruit on my neighbour’s crabapple tree that overhangs my small veg patch is precious, every boysenberry yet to be picked is ripe with urgency, every germinating winter veg and maturing spring veg seed is a lifeline. Thoughts like “This will see us through the winter” and “I’ll be glad of this in January” pop up time and again as I gather fruit to make wine and jam, and chase a few intrepid spiders off my berry hoard with juice-stained fingers.

This summer’s lettuce left to seed for next year.

Never mind that we have ample supplies of both in the local grocery store, or that they deliver so I needn’t even go out and face the possibility of catching the plague. There is just… something… about putting the labour in to prepare for the weather and darkness to come that strikes me as fundamentally, instintually important.

“I’ll be glad of this in January” is at the front of my mind with every stitch too and I know I won’t be content to face winter 2020 until I have cast on.

I don’t go fancy. I prefer to keep my knitting simple. So, usually I just work a garter stitch band til it fits around my waist, pick up along its selvedge and knit upwards. Raglan decreases are perfect – I can watch TV and barely glance at what my fingers are doing – but a little stranded colourwork is not out of the question, either. Doesn’t it make for a cozier jumper after all? And it’s great if you’re stash busting and haven’t enough of any one colour lying around.

I’ll be glad of these come January!


It’s been my autumn ritual these last 6 or 7 years.
Gather berries, Make wine, Knit jumper. Face the storms.

This year, I get the sense I may need to make more wine than usual, though. And maybe fit in a second jumper along the way.

I’m not the only one prepping for the colder months, I see.
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Translating English into English

“I only speak US”.
I’ve heard time and time again from people at Trunk Shows and yarn events when they come to talk crochet with me. It’s a common refrain across the internet, too; a pattern language is learnt, internalised and ownership of it is established as a crafter learns the crochet “ropes”.

Bilingual crafters like myself end up translating ourselves for the multitudes to be assured of being understood.
I have resorted to explanations like “the little square stitch, you know, the one that is as tall as it is wide” or “The one you don’t yarn over at the beginning for,” to describe a double crochet, for instance (single crochet for USians)

Or “the most common Granny Square stitch”, to describe a treble (double crochet for USians)

– See? I’m doing it again.

And I get it. I absolutely understand why people would hold on to their first language like a badge of honour. I do too. I take it as a sign of my longevity in this industry that I learnt crochet pattern writing in books so old that the UK version of the stitch names was more common. I’m also a sucker for a lost cause.

The popularity of the US version has certainly taken off with the advent of the internet, and the ever-growing number of people teaching that version on YouTube. And cool, sure, OK.

Crochet being such a young craft, it’s not surprising that we haven’t all settled down to using the same words for our stitches yet. Crochet really only began to emerge as a thing in the late Victorian era (late 19th Century), examples of whereas knitting – a far more venerable craft – have been found in Egyptian tombs.

Homogenisation is not a bad word, and eventually we will all begin to speak the same language but it’s myopic to accept it as a given and not work to preserve the past while we still can.

What a pity will it be, after all, when all those ancient patterns are no longer understandable to future generations. What a sad day it will be when the immense wealth of art and creativity our foresisters accumulated is consigned to the dust bin for being unintelligible.

And how disappointing it is that so many designers don’t bother to cater to both languages now when it is so easy to do.
If you “only” speak US, how many opportunities are you missing out on, you know? Why ignore an entire course at a banquet laid out especially for you because you aren’t familiar with the cutlery?

So. Here we go, folks.
Here’s how I translate my patterns from UK to US using the “Find and Replace” tool that’s available in every Word Processor and piece of Layout & Design software out there.

If you use Word, Open Office, Apple Pages, whatever, it’s in there. Find it, then do the following.

First things first: Luckily, slip stitches are universal, so we can ignore them.
They’re ss or sl st to everyone. Phew.

If possible, select “whole word” as an option, so you don’t have to wade through every word with a t and an r next to each other.

Note: if you are the one writing the pattern, be sure you leave spaces like this: [2 dc] in your notation. [2dc] may not register as a thing to find in your programme.
Additionally, be sure to keep an eye on what your programme is doing. Do not hit “Replace All” if that is an option, or you may turn words like “trying” into “dcying” and confuse the life out of everyone.

UK to US (see US to UK below)

Tip: Start with the smallest stitch and work up.

Find: dc Replace with: sc
Find: htr Replace with: hdc
Find: tr Replace with: dc
Find: dtr Replace with: tr
Find: ttr Replace with: dtr
Find: dc2tog Replace with: sc2tog
Find: dc3tog Replace with: sc3tog

In your abbreviations: (this is best done manually)
Find: double Replace with: single
Find: treble Replace with: double
Find: double treble Replace with: treble

US to UK

Tip: Start with the largest stitch and work down.

Luckily, slip stitches are universal, so we can ignore them.
They’re ss of sl st to everyone. Phew.

If possible, select “whole word” as an option, so you don’t have to wade through every word with a d and a c next to each other.

Find: dtr Replace with: ttr
Find: tr Replace with: dtr
Find: dc Replace with: tr
Find: hdc Replace with: htr
Find: sc Replace with: dc

Find: dc2tog Replace with: sc2tog
Find: dc3tog Replace with: sc3tog

In your abbreviations:
Find: treble Replace with: double treble
Find: double Replace with: treble
Find: single Replace with: double

Lastly: Want to translate a pattern you found online or in a pdf?
Select and copy the text, then paste it into your word processor.

No pattern is now beyond your understanding.

Please do bare in mind, though, that translating a pattern doesn’t mean you own that version. Translating is a thing you can do to broaden your personal horizons.
– If you bought that pattern, do not distribute your version.
– If the pattern was free, be sure the designer gives explicit permission to you before you go about distributing their work. Include clear credit and do not sell it. No contact from a designer is a “no”.

Support creative professionals.

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“You’re a what…?”

“And how’s school going?”

“So, what are you doing with yourself?”

“What are you working at these days?”

“How’s the (cue vague knitting-type hand movements) …job?”

This is the procession of questions I have heard every 6 months since I turned seventeen and was diagnosed with an auto-immune illness. Every half year, as sure as the solstice, my doctor will check that my diabetes is behaving itself – she’ll check my weight, take blood, look over my most recent readings, check my injection site for any skin irritation, quiz me on my sick day protocols, tickle my toes to make sure I’m not losing any feeling – and as the notes fly and the food-related questions burble forth, she’ll ask how work is going.

“Work” is something I’ve had to explain frequently over the years as my doctors changed or misplaced my personal details amid a plethora of others they’d be seeing that day. “Work” is something that frequently comes up at family gatherings and parties. “Work” is a question I can barely escape and can rarely explain without caveats and corrections and the gratuitous use of white boards or flip charts or other people’s wine glasses.

You see, crochet design is a baffling concept for anyone outside our crafty, cozy bubble. Usually, I reply “Oh, I am a crochet designer,” when asked, but that invariably leads to confused puppy face – tilting head and all.

Each time I explain that I design crochet patterns and that I write up the instructions; “similar to a cake recipe”, I’ll say, “I take photos, lay out charts, record technique videos on YouTube and then people who want the thing I’ve designed can buy the instructions and make their own”.
It’s not uncommon that visual aids are necessary before the concept becomes clear. Luckily, I usually have a half-finished project to hand.

“What do you do?” is inevitably a question that strangers regret asking me. Whether they like it or not, they end up learning more about crochet along the way than they ever wanted to.

“Crochet is one hook, knitting is two or more needles.”
“Yes, you can crochet socks”
“No I won’t knit you a jumper with my hook” (that’s a topic for another post, isn’t it?)

There have been times that I wish I was just able to say “firefighter” and be done with it if I’m perfectly honest, but I don’t think my 5′ 4″ height would lend much credence to such a claim.

But. Ah, dear people. But.

But. But. But.

Last week, I had occasion to visit my local hospital’s Accident & Emergency department. I’m fine, don’t worry.
“What do you do?” I was asked at reception as I waited to be seen.
“I’m a knit designer,” I replied on a whim.
“oooooooh, that’s amazing. I bet that’s very fulfilling.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather, people. No confusion, no caveats, now white boards necessary. A disappointing dearth of wine glasses, too, for the record.

Now, this may be a fluke, it may be that this one lady was just being polite and had no idea what I was on about. Or, it may be that the very mention of crochet as a viable profession simply short circuits the human mind and leaves many dumbfounded.

I’m not sure. But I sure as hell am going to experiment further.

Ready for your next project? Check these out!

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